Which of You Will Be Dying This Year?
by GOLD fish 945
Summary: Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. [CEDRIC] R


Which of You Will Be Dying This Year?

_Goldfish_

-

"I hope this class won't be a waste…" said Conner. "I can't believe I agreed to take this with you. It's gonna be so stupid!"

"Exactly!" said Cedric. "It's a blow-off class."

"You know it isn't gonna be that easy," said Conner, annoyed. "We have to try to _see the future_. God… this is going to be so dumb…"

Cedric rolled his eyes, and a silvery ladder fell from the ceiling. It was like an invitation. Several people headed up into the tower, and Cedric followed Conner.

Cedric looked around, wondering what to expect. He hadn't heard much about Professor Trelawney, and he hoped she wouldn't be too strict.

"Welcome, my dears," said a dreamy voice about two feet away from Cedric. He jumped and turned in the direction of the voice. Professor Trelawney came into view, and Cedric was amused by her appearance.

Her glasses were several times too big for her face, and made her eyes much larger then were natural. She had what looked like several thousand beads and necklaces, and it was a wonder her neck could support them all. She had a shawl, and her dark hair was pulled away from her face. She smiled at the class, and they smiled tentatively back.

"Welcome to Divination!" she said, her voice still misty. "Please, sit!" Cedric looked down and saw several armchairs and poufs. Cedric sat in an armchair, with Conner on his right in a pouf and his friend Emily Jacobson on his left.

"This looks like it's going to be _so_ interesting!" Emily whispered into his ear. Cedric rolled his eyes, but did not respond.

"So!" began Professor Trelawney. "Welcome to the art of Divination! My name is Professor Trelawney. Most of you have never seen me before. I find that descending from this tower too often befuddles my Inner Eye. There is far too much hustle and bustle."

The room was silent.

"You have chosen a very difficult branch of magic to study, my dears. I must warn you that not everyone possesses the _Sight_. If you do not have it, there is very little I can teach to you. Books can only do so much."

Several people looked at each other, smirking.

'_Not too much book work then!'_ thought Cedric. _'Perfect.'_

"Many witches and wizards, talented thought they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney continued. She looked every single person in the class in the eye, lingering more on some then others. "It is a Gift granted to very few. You!" she said suddenly, loudly, pointing at Marcus Flint. "Beware. Study hard and your life will proceed normally." Marcus looked at his neighbor, confused. Cedric smirked.

She went around, cornering students, predicting things that got steadily worse.

"Your mother is well?" she asked Caitlin Mosley.

"Um… she was the last time I wrote…" Caitlin said nervously.

"I would send her a bezoar in your next package," said Trelawney. Caitlin's eyes grew wide, and she whimpered.

Professor Trelawney then turned her eyes to Cedric, and she gasped.

'_Damn,'_ thought Cedric.

"You, my dear!" she said, putting her hand on Cedric's face. He stiffened. Was this allowed? He gulped.

"You!" she said again. "I see pain in your future." She moved her hand to the top of his head, and closed her eyes. Cedric sent a worried glance to Conner, next to him. Conner looked like he might throw up, but that could have been because of the perfume in the room.

Professor Trelawney gasped.

"My child…" Cedric's face fell. He wasn't a child. "Your future is not a happy one. In just a few short years a great tragedy will befall you."

"Um," said Emily nervously. "What _tragedy_?"

"You shall _die_, my dear!" said Professor Trelawney magnificently. Cedric felt like he'd been hit by lightning. She hadn't said anything _that_ bad yet!

"H-How?" he asked her.

"I See it now… A cauldron, a man with a finger missing…" Cedric sighed. That did not explain _how_.

"But… _how_?" he asked again. Professor Trelawney removed her hand from his head and came down to eyelevel with Cedric.

"You shall be killed, my dear," she said quietly. The entire room went silent. Cedric's eyes opened wide and the breath caught in his throat. Trelawney got back up, and looked around the room. She sighed. Everyone's faces held the same expression, _horror_.

"I believe," she said, "that that is enough for today. Please pack your things, and go to your next class."

Cedric didn't know how it happened, but somehow he found himself in Herbology. He looked around at his classmates. They were staring at him, like he might drop dead at any second. They were staring like he was an exhibit in a zoo. He looked down at his plants.

"My," said Professor Sprout, "the lot of you are quiet today! Is everything all right?" Everyone in the class exchanged looks, and then Conner spoke.

"We just had our first Divination, Professor," he began.

"Ah," interjected Sprout. "I see. Who's dying?"

The class stared at her. "Well?" she asked eventually. "Who?"

"I am," said Cedric. "It's me." Sprout looked at Cedric, and raised her eyebrows.

"I'm pleased to tell you, Mr. Diggory, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of a student every year since she's come here, or so Professor McGonagall tells me. I've dealt with this before. No student so far has died. Please do not dwell on that prediction, Mr. Diggory. I'd put it from your mind if I were you. Nothing shall happen." Cedric felt a little relieved.

Trelawney was just a strange, sadistic old woman. There was no way _Cedric_ would be killed. He was a Hufflepuff. People generally liked Hufflepuffs!

"Hey, who's playing in the next Quidditch match again?" he asked Conner.

"Gryffindor and Ravenclaw," said Conner. The rest of the class was spent talking about Hufflepuff's chances for the Quidditch cup.


End file.
